A Lovestory
by Lucesco
Summary: It always starts with a lovestory...Gohan/Videl, sad ending, but don't let that spoil the fun
1. It always starts with a love story

A/N: Oh-oh... Is she really going to continue with this story? Yes, she is gonna! Revised and re-read a million times and hopes it is perfectioned now. It's my second try to write this story and I really do want to finish it. It's not going to be a long story, but it will have many chapters so it's easy to read. I changed the first chapter, but the plot is about the same.

**WARNING: NO HAPPY ENDING!!**

So if you can't read anything that doesn't have a happy ending, this is not a story for you. If you do though, you might like it. Or not. That's up to you to decide. As for me, I think a sad ending has to be done every once in a while. Even on FFN.

Disclaimer: the standard lines... I do not own the characters. Something original though: I do not own the lines in Italic.

Note: This is only a prologue. The preface. The introduction. You get the picture.

Read on!

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Chapter 1

It always starts with a love story…

Every story has a beginning. The curtains go up under the encouragement of the applause of the highly-anticipating audience, the first scene is played. The credits appear in the screen, the whispering viewers are silenced. The book is opened, the first lines are read and the story slowly unfolds.

_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife._

_It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen._

_Once there were four kids whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy._

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_

Some stories are received well, others not. Some will be remembered forever, some will pass into forgetfulness. Some will be read over and over again until the pages are yellow and the sews come loose, others will be put away on their shelves, dusting away as no one remembers where it is or even what it is. But what's the difference between the two? By what are they distinguished from each other? What makes a story immortal? What gives it that character that makes it universally known and known forever generation after generation after generation? In other words, what is the essence of an immortal story?

Is it the story itself? Is it the happy ending? Is it the sad ending? Is it the main character? Is it the bombastic element, or the simplicity in the choice of words? Is it the realism? Is it the surrealism? Is it the experience of an author long established, or is it the irresistible freshness of a novice? So many aspects, so many opinions, and no one, including myself, can give the definition of the story everyone wants to write, but only few do. A few I envy, as I myself would like to write a story that will be in everyone's memory forever.

Why does he want to know the secret of these few? Why does he want to write an immortal story? Anyone who proclaims openly that his ambition is to write such a story is conceited and pretentious. Who does he think he is? He must be pompous! He must be out of his mind! He must not know the purpose of writing!

What is the purpose of writing? Can passion really be mistaken for ambition? Blind, foolish ambition? Is it not enough that I write my own story in the hopes of making it to the selected few who know the secret of achieving immortality through writing? Or is it too much to hope for? A man can dream, but dreams are shattered by those who don't believe in them.

Needless to say, I want to write an immortal story. And now we get back to the main questions: why? Why the dream to achieve this goal? Why writing? The answer is short and simple, and I hope worthy of the story that is about the commence.

Because of her, my friend, my lover, my woman.

Because of her, and no other desire or ambition in this world.

Because of her, to remember the life with her.

Because of her, as this is the only eternity we share.

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Review please!


	2. Sonnet 130

A/N: I love this chapter. It was so much fun to write. Always wondered how Gohan really experienced his first day at school. I remember well that I went to a new school, new class, with new people. Didn't know anyone. It was a bad, bad day, but later it was alright. Once I managed to fit in. Been in the same class for six years now and I'm kind of tired of all the same faces. Oh well... In the end you look back on it and smile, or so they say. Moving on to the story now..

**WARNING: NO HAPPY ENDING** (for those who missed the first warning)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and definitely not Shakespeare's sonnet #130

Note: Two chapters in one time! Isn't she generous?

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Chapter two

_Sonnet #130_

Her number was up the first time I laid eyes on her. I remember it well. It was the first day of high school. My first time _at_ high school. I had been home schooled all my life and when I was seventeen my mother decided that a social life would come in handy if I wanted to pursue a carrier everyone dreams of. You know, people need to have a network if they want to place themselves in the high society of academics. And high school offered to perfect opportunity to meet new people so strategically it was the right move. Unfortunately, in order to have a social life one must also have social skills and I was seriously incompetent at that department. Therefore I had been dreading the first day of high school all month and when the moment was there my anxiety was only fed by all the flocks of boys and girls that crowded Orange Star High. I wasn't used to life of high school; to the packs of teenagers that travelled through the halls, to the 'chaps' and 'galls' that stuck together like bees to honey, to the incredible noise they collectively produced, to the numerous sub-cultures each individual group represented. It was a culture shock and I was completely at loss.

Needless to say, it was a total disaster. I immediately noticed that I didn't belong, that I was an outsider, not only because my country boy manners, which required me to be polite, respectful and responsible, were absolutely different – if not the opposite from - the manners that reigned in school, but also because I just physically did not find my place in any group. I didn't look like any of them. My clothes were, as I later learned, old-fashioned, my skin was pale, as opposed to the various shades of tan the other students possessed, my hair was tousled and a total mess according to most and I simply did not care about my appearance. That would have been a good thing, wasn't it for that fact that this was high school and appearance meant everything there. As a consequence of our differences, no one was willing to open up to me. Perhaps they would have if I was bold enough to just made room for myself, but because my social skills were so poor I never really succeeded in earning my place anywhere.

My first day was lonely. I was the object of many gawks and gossips, but no one approached me. There was one girl who was nice to me. Erasa was her name. She started a conversation with me, which I thought was extremely kind of her, even though you could call her a bit dim-witted as she clearly was last in line when Mother Nature was handing out intelligence. But the moment she saw better company she knew whom to pick. And I was her second choice. So, with no one bothering to talk to me and make my life less dreadful, the day dragged on until the last hour. Literature class. It was then that I saw _her_.

She was sitting next to the window, alone, doodling idly on her notebook. She didn't bother to talk to anyone else and if someone talked to her, she quickly cut it off. As if she didn't like the attention. The sun was reflected on her chalky pale skin and midnight black hair that was tied in two pigtails. Her features were small and delicate. Her clothes were simple, her whole appearance was simple. She didn't have that outstanding beauty some women have, that cliché, boring one, but rather that silent beauty. Silent, pale beauty. Unseen for those who didn't pay attention to it or who didn't appreciate it. But I did. I saw right away that she was unique and that made her more beautiful than any woman I had ever seen in my life. She had me before she even looked at me.

Weeks went by. I started to hate school. Not for its classes but for the people. There was only one light bulb and that was her, the moment I saw her in my last period and the only class we shared. Videl Satan was her name, as I soon learned, and her father was the famous Hercule Satan who claimed to have defeated Cell. You'd expect that she was popular in school, with many friends and many wannabe-friends – what else can you expect from someone after whose surname the city was named – but she had remarkably little contact with the rest of the students. She chose for that though, she chose to seclude herself from everyone else. She only had a two real friends, Erasa, who was kind enough to talk to me every once in a while, and Sharpener, some popular jock, and I didn't understand either of those two friendships, as both Erasa and Sharpener couldn't be more different from the silent Videl. It worked for them, I suppose, though I never really understood why.

It took me one second to see that Videl was special. Not like anyone else. So real, so much her own person. She got my sympathy right away, sympathy that grew into an infatuation in a matter of days, before we exchanged even one word. I watched her at school. How she read during lunch breaks, completely unaware of the rest of the world. One day there was a food fight in the cafeteria. As the fight continued until the end of the lunch break, she didn't look up once. So occupied by the book and the world that she created. When the bell rang she got up, stuffed her book into her bag and wanted to make her way to her next classroom, until she finally noticed the mess around her. Erasa filled her in on everything. I found it particularly amusing to watch how surprised she was that she just read through the whole incident.

In class I spent the entire hour gazing at her. How she doodled on her notebook, played with her pen, stared through the window. She always delivered impeccable work, the teacher awarded only a few people with straight A's and she was among those few. When asked a question, she always gave the right answer, her homework was flawless. And yet she didn't pay attention in class, she was always doing something else. That I found very interesting. Like her, I was a straight A student, and like her, I didn't need to pay attention in class. She was intellectually at the same level as I was.

This was not the only resemblance between us. We didn't mingle with other people, she by choice, me because I was socially retarded. But that made us both outsiders. In my dreams I would have the guts to talk to her and become friends with her and we'd make our own little, private group. Just the two of us, because the rest of the world wasn't special enough. But in reality, I was too scared to talk to her. In the first weeks I was at Orange Star High, we didn't exchange even a 'hello' or 'goodbye'. I don't think she knew I existed at that moment.

Another thing we shared was our passion for poetry. In literature class she could recite every poem the teacher asked. When she recited poems, she opened up, she dared to express herself. I could see her eyes shine at those moment and she mesmerized me. She had an amazing voice and even those who couldn't care less about poetry were momentarily taken away by her warm voice that demanded everyone to listen to it. And when she was done, when the silence returned, she became normal again. Distant. But her love for poetry was evident even when she was her normal self. She frequently read works of famous and not so famous poets during lunch break. It was when I found out that she loved poetry that I fell in love with her.

It was actually poetry that initiated everything. One warm day, in the months of post-summer when autumn was already approaching, I sat underneath one of the old maple trees of the school yard. I was thinking about Videl, as I almost always was. Thinking about how to approach her. Someone sat down at the other side of the tree, but because I was in such deep thoughts, I didn't notice. When I heard a cough, I realized I was not alone. Curious to know who was on the other side of the tree, I took one peek. It was Videl and she was reading.

My heart was raging in my chest when I thought about how close she was to me at that moment. I just had to stretch out my hand and I could touch her. I had never been this close to her before. I had to take advantage of this opportunity. I had to say something to her. This was the moment. But I couldn't. My throat was dry and I couldn't utter a word. I wanted to talk to her so hard that I couldn't manage to say anything. It was so stupid and all the while her proximity was maddening me.

I didn't dare to talk to her. But all of a sudden I thought of one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I didn't know where it came from, but I knew what I had to do. I took one of the large leaves of the maple that I found on the grass and got a black marker out of my bag. I wrote down the sonnet on the leaf.

_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun _

_Coral is far more red than her lips' red_

_If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun_

_If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head_

_I have seen roses damask'd, red and white_

_But no such roses see I in her cheeks_

_And in some perfumes is there more delight_

_Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks_

_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_

_That music hath a far more pleasing sound_

_I grant I never saw a goddess go_

_My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground_

_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_

_As any she belied with false compare_

When I was done I didn't hesitate one moment. I got up and walked to the other side of the tree until I was facing her. My heart was beating faster than it ever did as I looked at her. She didn't notice me standing in front of her right away. I stood there for half a minute until she turned a page and as she did, her eyes wandered to me. She was so startled that the book fell out of her hands. I looked at her intently, her expression was questioning. When I saw her eyes my bones nearly melted. Violet blue, and incredibly deep.

Before she could say anything, I handed her the leaf. She took it with surprise in her beautiful eyes, before she started to read the sonnet. I was gone by the time she finished it.

Later that day I watched her walking into the classroom for literature class. For the first time her eyes sought out for me. And for the first time, finding me in my usual seat, she gave me a warm, affectionate smile. I was deeply in love with her.

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Review please!


	3. A Fighter

A/N: I can't think of anything useful to say. Just went out and I'm dead. Wanted to post this anyway.. Because I like posting. Oh, I got a reviewer saying I should write a sequel. Fireeyes, that's a damn good idea. I'll definitely consider it. I'd dedicate it to you.

Disclaimer: Insert any standard disclaimer and get yourself a cookie. And then get to bed, you.

Note: Thanks everyone for all the reviews. They make a smile appear on my face. Even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones. I like the bad ones. They keep me sharp and stubborn and motivated to go on and prove them wrong, HAHA.

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Chapter three

_A fighter_

As the weeks went by, I sort of became obsessed with Videl. I wanted to know everything about her, loved everything about her. There wasn't just that wanting her and wanting to know all about her. It was a need. Without her, my days were considerably less bright and with her, nothing could ruin my day. The thought of Videl made me happy, the sight of her brought me to a state of utter bliss. I could watch her for hours, she never grew dull. Every movement of her body was a beautiful poem to me, every word that was drawn from her lips had a thousand meanings, the voice that came from her throat was better than any song I'd ever heard. She wasn't perfect, she had many imperfections. But that made her perfect to me.

One time I discovered that she was absent during literature class. I noticed it immediately as my eyes swept to the seat she usually took and found it to be empty. My eyes searched the entire classroom but none of the seats were taken by the object of my obsession. It ruined my day. Some people might not understand it, but let me put it this way. How would you feel if you hadn't eaten all day? If the sun hadn't come out for weeks? If you're in a traffic jam every morning? If you spent a day without laughing? You'd be cranky, depressed, miserable even, hungry for the thing you need to become happy. This is how I felt the day she didn't come to class. Cranky, depressed and even miserable. I wanted to know where she was. Why wasn't she there? Was she ill? I wanted… needed to know. I'd have no rest until I knew.

I asked Erasa after class. She looked at me suspiciously.

"Why do you want to know?" She questioned. I had seen this coming. Erasa was completely predictable. That's why she was, despite her well intentions, boring.

"I wanted to ask her something about the paper that is due Friday." I responded. I was pleased with myself, my excuse sounded natural. When it comes to it, I can pull a poker face.

"Well, you can ask me." The blond suggested. There was more behind it though. A suggestion behind a suggestion. Almost a flirt. I cringed.

"No, I really need to ask her this. Do you know where she is?"

Erasa looked insulted that I turned her down. "She's at the bank downtown." She said a bit cool. "There's a bank robbery going on there."

"A bank robbery?!" I almost yelled. "But that's dangerous!"

Erasa chuckled. "Gohan, just relax. Videl does these things all the time. Whenever the police can't handle the situation anymore, they call her and she fixes it. She's our local crime fighter. You don't have to worry about her, she's a tough girl. She always saves the day."

It felt as if a rock had fallen inside my stomach. I couldn't utter a single word. As Erasa was prattling about addresses or something, I started to panic. Videl at a bank robbery. Even worse, Videl as a crime fighter. She was risking her life out there. How could she? Didn't she know how dangerous it was? Silly, silly girl. If the robbers were armed, she was done for. I realized I had to help her. I had to go there and save her before it was too late.

"Gohan, hello?" Erasa asked as she was waving a hand in front of my face. I woke from my thoughts.

"Do you want it or not?" She inquired.

"Sorry? Want what?" I asked confused.

"Her address. Here, I wrote it down for you." And she pressed a piece of paper in my hand. I looked at her questioningly.

"You can drop by at her house later in the afternoon and ask her your question. She will probably be home by then, bank robberies usually don't take that long." She explained.

I nodded, not quite realizing that in my hand was something very precious, the address of the girl I was in love with. My mind was too much focussed on the fact that Videl was risking her life and that she could by dead by now. No matter the confidence Erasa had expressed in her, no girl could single-handedly put an end to a bank robbery, especially not when fire weapons were involved.

I muttered my thanks to Erasa and sped outside. I was in full panic-mode and wished with all my heart that I wasn't too late. I ran into a small alley a few blocks from the school. Looking around to see if no one was there, I took off my coat and sweater. No one could recognize my clothes when I was wearing a flimsy white t-shirt and some jeans anyone could have. When I was sure no one was there to see me, I powered up to Super Saiyan. Wasting no more time, I blasted off into the sky, flying downtown full speed.

Not knowing which bank Erasa was talking about sure made everything so much more difficult. I hovered above the city, looking around frantically. If only this girl had a power level. I could locate her immediately if she had. But the fact that I didn't sense anything confirmed my belief that she wasn't strong enough to take on a couple of bank robbers. My eyes swept over numerous buildings, until after a few minutes I heard a gunshot. My heart went cold. I knew in which direction that bank was, that was a positive thing, but the negative thing… They were using guns. There was no time left. If they were using guns, Videl was in grave danger. I was fearing for her life.

Faster than I ever was I flew into the direction the gunshot came from. When I approached the site, I knew that I was at the right place. There was police everywhere, surrounding a building which I presumed was the bank and keeping an hysterical crowd at distance. There, before the large entrance of the bank, was one small figure, surrounded by five bigger, intimidating figures.

I knew the small figure was Videl. Thank God she was still alive. But even though I was relieved that she was still in one piece, raw anger filled me when I saw that the five men were about to attack her. I wanted to protect Videl and the thought of anyone hurting her maddened me beyond belief. There was no time to waste, she was enclosed by the bank robbers, of which two had a weapon. I was at the point of speeding towards the group and knock the living daylight out of the men in a surge of blind rage, when something happened that I had never and could have never foreseen.

Videl overpowered one of the men who held a weapon. I would have fallen out of the sky if I hadn't been careful.

In a series of swift and agile kicks and punches, graceful and powerful and hitting the exact right place, Videl took down the man and managed to get hold of his gun. The man was unconscious. The crowd gasped collectively. Faster than the men could respond to, she aimed the gun at the other armed man and looked at them with an expression that demanded respect.

"Throw down your weapon!" She yelled to the bank robber.

I watched her with fascination as she aimed her gun at the man. Her expression was hard and she carried so much confidence that even I'd drop the gun if I was in the man's position. And that was what he did. In utter shock about how she could overpower the other bank robber so quickly and so easily, he released the gun and let it fall to the ground.

"Put your hands up in the air, all of you." Videl demanded with an intimidating voice and the men didn't hesitate to do so. The second the men surrendered to Videl, the crowd burst with cheers and enthusiastic applauding. A dozen cops ran towards the bank robbers and shackled them with handcuffs, before taking them away.

Videl lowered the gun and waved to the excited crowd. She looked content and happier than I had ever seen her. I didn't know what it was that had satisfied her. The cheering of the crowd, or the overpowering of five man twice her size?

As I had watched the entire scene unfold until Videl overpowered men single-handedly, I couldn't believe my own eyes. She was amazing. I had never seen anything like it. This girl was not trained in using ki, compared to my power she was like a single ant on the planet, but for human standards she was surprisingly strong. And a very strategic fighter. Brilliant how she got hold of one gun and aimed it at the others. Erasa had been right, Videl is a tough girl. But I had never expected anything like this. She didn't even need my help.

I looked at her from the sky as she was talking to one of the cops. I smiled. She may not need my help, but from then on I offered it in case she needed it. Not only because I still wanted to protect her from getting harmed, I dreaded that with all my heart, but also because seeing her fight was truly a sigh worth to behold.

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Now, get to bed. But first, review if you like. But then under the sheets, Winnie the Pooh under arm, thumb in mouth, count sheep, drink hot milk and honey or cognac (just a tiny glass and you're floored, I swear), and off to dreamland.


	4. It Favours the Bold

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A/N: Finally!! After two weeks of exams it is over!! Well, not over... Two more exams, but that's all reading comprehension so no studying for that. One more textbook and my head would have exploded. So that's the news of the day... Congratulations to me!!

Disclaimer: Think of something creative.

Note: Next chapter is going to be more eventful.

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_Chapter 4_

_It Favours the Bold_

The relationship between Videl and me hadn't changed much since I wrote her one of Shakespeare's sonnets on the large maple leaf. We had still never talked to each other, not even said one word… at all. But I could count on one of her smiles occasionally. Sometimes she'd walk into the classroom during Literature, flash her eyes towards me and smile. Warm, friendly. Seeing her face light up when she noticed me sitting in the back of the classroom truly made my day. On those lucky days I received a smile, I was a happy man and the world could not be more bright and colourful for me.

But even though the smiles were a big plus and a whole lot better than nothing, I wanted more. More contact than eye contact, more exchange than the exchange of smiles. I wanted to be able to talk to her and I wanted to interest her with my talking. I definitely did not want to be one of those people who started a conversation with her to be cut off by Videl before they even noticed they were. When I was having a conversation with Videl, it was because she wanted it too. Because she was interested in what I had to say.

But that's easier said than done. Just starting a conversation with her about random stuff was stupid. She'd push me away and distance herself from me and perhaps our delicate relationship that was based on smiles and glances would be broken and totally crushed because I didn't give her enough space. I had to handle this carefully. She had to come to me, instead of me going to her. Deciding that, I realized she wouldn't come to me without a reason. She avoided any form of contact with the other students, therefore she sure as hell wouldn't come to me if I didn't give her any reason to. The reason was easy to think of…

…Poetry.

Our most obvious common ground. Like many men before me had, I would lure her with verses and sonnets and poems and conquer a solid place in her heart. Furthermore I could test her own intelligence regarding to poetry. It was my belief, and it still is, that only people who have a strong intellect can understand the delicate structure, the subtle references, the artful use of language and the underlying meaning of a truly beautiful poem. Of course, one must learn how to read poetry, but a intellect is essential in understanding it completely. I wanted to measure her intellect and see what her interpretation of various poems was. A poem is personal and you can tell a lot about a person through their interpretation of it.

To spark her interest, I started reading all sorts of collections of poems by different poets when I was sure she could see me. And my efforts paid off. During lunch breaks, I frequently saw her glancing at me from her own book. When I glanced back she quickly looked away. This brought some healthy tension in the relationship, which made me want her more. I admit though, my concentration wasn't entirely on what I was reading. Mostly I was just gazing in the distance and looking intense as I was aware of her brief glances, pretending to read the collection.

But even though my efforts paid off, I still didn't get what I was hoping for. The whole idea behind reading poetry at moments she could see me was with the intention of having her come to me and start a conversation. Yet weeks went by and all we had exchanged were warm smiles and short glances. She had never spoken a word to me and she had never come to me. You can understand that this was extremely frustrating for me. So I decided to use some drastic measures.

One day, when summer had already moved for autumn, I left a collection of poems by Wordsworth in the cafeteria. I'd done everything as natural as I could. I put the book on the table when lunch break was ending, grabbed my bag and opened it to stuff in it a can of coke (which I had deliberately saved) and rising from the bench I didn't look at the book on the table once and I walked away from the table I had sat at. Nothing made the suggestion that it was all an act, I had over thought this well enough. I had decided beforehand not to dwell too much on the possibility that maybe not Videl, but somebody else could take the book and bring it to me… or not even bring it to me and keep it. In the worst case scenario I could lose both the book and the opportunity to talk to Videl, in the best case I could get my book back and talk to Videl all in one try. My hopes were, naturally, on the last scenario.

I had no idea how I could be so lucky to get what I wanted, but when Videl walked into the classroom after me, she had my book in her hand. My heart started racing in my chest. The prospect of having her come to me was exhilarating. But I tried not to show that I expected her to come to me. Instead, I flashed her one of my usual smiles. She smiled back at me and, yeah, she walked towards me.

It might sound lame but it really happened… It felt like everything was happening in slow motion. I saw her coming to me and the seconds turned into minutes. As we kept eye contact I started to get a little sweaty, but all the while I tried to look surprised that she was walking towards me.

At last, after what seemed like an hour, an hour I on the one hand didn't want to end and on the other I did, she reached my seat.

"I believe this is yours." She said with monotone voice as she stood in front of me and showed me the book. I was so dazzled to hear her talking to me that I couldn't reply right away. I became tense by her closeness.

"Oh… Yes it is. Where did you find it?" I asked trying to sound surprised. She seemed to believe me. I had sounded convincingly enough.

"In the cafeteria. You left it at your seat." She responded.

Oh, okay. I must have forgotten." I said with feigned innocence. I took the book she handed me. "Thanks." And I flashed her a smile.

"You're welcome." She muttered.

Now was the time. Come on, Gohan! Say something, you moron!

I opened my mouth to speak to her, but I could think of nothing to say. I just looked completely and utterly idiotic as I watched her, mouth open in a charming manner and stammering in an attempt to start a conversation with the girl in front of me. I couldn't even make a comment on the weather, for God's Sake! The most obvious, neutral subject anyone but I could think of.

She just looked at me and waited for me to say something. But as I kept on stammering and couldn't utter anything that resembled words, I decided to end the show and close my mouth, looking away as I was blushing a tomato red. I had totally blown everything. _The_ opportunity to talk to the girl I was in love with and I let it slip through my fingers. Pathetic. I would never forgive myself.

But suddenly, completely against my own expectations, Videl broke the silence.

"I like William Wordsworth." She said as she looked at the book in my hand.

I stared at her stupidly. "You do?"

"Yes. He's one of my favourites." As she said that she took the book out of my hand again and started to read the back and flip through the pages. I waited for her to say something.

She smiled when she turned to me. "This is a good collection. All of my favourite poems of his are in it."

"Oh." I said lamely, not really knowing what to do but smile. It took me a while to think of something to say.

"If you want, you can borrow it for a while." I finally offered.

She hesitated. "Well, that'd be nice but I saw you haven't finished it yet."

"No, but I read it a couple times before." I explained, secretly pleased that she's been paying that much attention to me that she could tell I wasn't even half way through the book.

She gazed at the cover. "You really don't mind?"

"No, not at all."

She looked at me again and gave me another one of her stunning smiles. "Thank you." She said. "I'll return it to you as soon as I'm finished with it."

I nodded dumbly. "Take your time."

Watching her walking to her seat a feeling of total bliss gradually monopolized my body. I became dizzy from luck. My embarrassing performance towards Videl I soon forgot as I told myself that I not only spoke to the object of my obsession, but I also had the opportunity to talk to her again. She was going to return the book sometime after all. This could not be more perfect, I couldn't believe how lucky I was. The only thing I had to do was wait and she'd be coming to me eventually and when she did, I would be prepared.

As soon as school ended I made my way to the biggest book store in Orange city. There I bought every collection and book by and about Wordsworth I could get my hands on. By the time she came to me again, I'd know Wordsworth better than his mother did.

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You saw it right... I chose Wordsworth because he's my favourite. Oeeeehh, an autobiographic element...

Review if you like!


	5. 14th Park Lane

A/N: Don't ask... I want to put as much of this story out as I can before I'm going to France at the end of the week. And then I won't be updating much. Also, first post under my new name, Lucesco. Hope you like the new name. If you don't... tough.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Period.

Note: This chapter marks the beginning of the slowly unfolding story.

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_Chapter 5_

_14th Park Lane_

When I was about three months in high school, my mother started to notice that there was something off with me. I didn't eat as much as I used to, I was absent-minded most of the time, I could spend hours just staring out of the window and thinking about the girl I was in love with and I came home late, after watching Videl fighting crime. My mother, who knows me better than I do, ignored it. She attributed it to the fact I was in a new environment, meeting new people every day and that this was a huge change from the seclusion of my own home. I was bound to display somewhat different behaviour. However, she did keep an eye on me very closely. But when I came home with half a library about William Wordsworth she couldn't help herself and confronted me for the first time with my abnormal behaviour.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked indignantly as she pulled the books out of my arms and looked at each cover for a second.

"I like Wordsworth." I muttered with a blush.

"Don't you think that this is a little exaggerated?" She asked pointing at the books she threw on the kitchen table.

"What can I say? When you're into something, you're into something." I replied sheepishly.

She glared at me. "How did you buy this?"

Oh no, the inevitable question. I've been dreading this question ever since I left the bookstore.

"With… money?" I mumbled incoherently.

"What money?"

"From my bank account."

Mother threw the last book she had in her hands on the table. The bang it made sounded ominous.

"That money is for emergencies. Is this an emergency?" She hissed as she held up a collection of poems.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said this is really, really important, would you?"

"Gohan! If you're planning on throwing yourself into an identity crisis, then please tell me so I shouldn't have to worry!" She yelled to me.

I looked at her with confusion. "I don't follow."

"Listen son, you're a teenager." She started as she put her hands over my shoulders and looked at me significantly. "And teenagers are in a phase that they really don't know who they are and what they want from themselves and others…"

I opened my mouth to counter that but she beat me to it.

"No, don't argue. It's the truth. I've accepted that this phase would come, even with you. So far it hasn't yet, but now that you're in high school and meeting people your own age I know it is going to happen soon. You're acting strange, you don't eat, when I'm saying something it's like you're looking straight through me. You're becoming belatedly rebellious…"

"Mom, that's not it!" I whined but it was in vain. My mother's grip on my shoulders tightened. It was amazing how much strength that woman had.

"Gohan, I read about this. Many parents have problems with their teenage children." She said with apprehension. "And your behaviour has been so strange lately that I'm wondering if something like that will happen between us too. But because it's normal, I don't have to be worried. So Gohan, are you really becoming rebellious? Because if you do, I'm fine with that, I know it's just a phase you're going through."

I looked at her as if she was mad. "Rebellious? No, of course not."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Then what's the deal with your unusual behaviour?"

"I-It's nothing." I stammered as she glared at me.

"Then why have you bought all those books?"

"Just a regular obsession."

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Not hungry."

"Why are you coming home late?"

"Extra curricular activities."

"Why are you looking straight through me when I'm talking to you?"

"Just thinking."

She frowned. Of course she didn't believe me. She could see when I was lying as if it was written on my forehead. But before she could make a comment I gave her a kiss on the cheek and grabbed the books, before I dashed to my room.

"Should I be worried?!" She yelled after me.

"You shouldn't!" I yelled back, entering my room and closing the door behind me.

My mother didn't come to my room. She hardly ever did. She respected my privacy to a certain degree. So I was safe to do whatever I wanted as long as she thought I was in my room. That night, I looked at the little piece of paper Erasa gave me a while ago. The paper with Videl's address. I kept it hidden under my pillow and every night I watched it, relieved that it was still there, although there wasn't any reason to assume that it wasn't.

I had often wondered if I couldn't just sneak out of the window and fly to her house, just to check on her and to see where she lived. I always told myself that my obsession wasn't as big that I'd actually fly over there just to see her. But that night, something, maybe the little devil on my right shoulder, told me to go for it. I didn't have her address for no reason, after all.

After a significant amount of time of debating with me, myself and I, I decided that there was no reason why I shouldn't fly over there. After all, wasn't this one of the many advantages of my supposedly blessed powers? As I look back on it now, I didn't know what I was thinking. Perhaps I was still too flabbergasted about the fact that Videl spoke to me for the first time that day. How Videl and I have laughed about my infatuation, and the things I have done in the name of love, years and years after this happened. What men won't do under the banner of love.

I'd leave my room during the night. That was the safest, my mother would suspect nothing. While we were having dinner, my little brother talked my head off about frogs and bugs and his adventures with Nimbus. Thank the heavens that he did, or I'm sure my mother would have noticed that I was silent and absent-minded, planning my little nightly trip in the depths of my mind.

The clock stoke eight. Goten went to bed, not without protest. Mother assumed that I was studying. I tried to, but gave up when time got near her bedtime. The clock stroke ten. My mother gave a soft knock on my door.

"Come in." I said.

Mother opened the door. She was smiling as she saw me sitting at my desk, a math textbook in my hands.

"How's studying coming along?" She asked.

I shrugged. "You know…"

"Are you going to call it a day?"

"I just have to finish this chapter."

She was shining with pride. "Alright son."

Her gaze moved from me to my bed. All the books of Wordsworth were scattered on the sheets. I hadn't put them away yet. As she stared at the books she released a chuckle.

"Poetry…" She muttered amused. "… the food of love."

She gave me a look I couldn't place. Before I could reply, she had already said her goodnights and I was alone in my room again. For the next few hours I could occupy myself with the question whether she looked through me or not.

The clock stroke one. The house was silent. Mother was asleep, Goten was asleep. It was a safe hour, no one would notice my absence. With the Videl's address in my tightly clenched fist, as I was afraid to lose it to a sudden gust of air, I opened my window and dived into the dark night. I was exhilarated. My heart was racing in my chest. I'd see Videl again tonight. That prospect alone was enough to make me jump a hole in the air. I think I never flew as fast as I did that night.

I arrived in Satan City not even ten minutes later. The city was still as vibrant as it was during the day. It was always awake. When I landed in a dark alley, I didn't know where I was or where to go to. I only had Videl's address; 14th Park Lane, Princess' Quarter, Satan City SW.

My only clue was Satan City SW, which I assumed was Satan City South-West. That brought me somewhere. In a few minutes I was in a part of the city that looked completely different from the other parts. It was spacious, green, the pavements were white, the rooftops were orange and the exteriors of the shops I came across suggested 'designer'. Wherever Videl lived, she lived in the better half of Satan City.

I took me long enough to find the Princess' Quarter. After half an hour I finally saw a map in a city park, opposite of a huge shopping centre, and I found that I'd been in the Princess' Quarter for the full half hour. But the good news was that Park Lane was prominently displayed on the map. It was just a good walk around the corner. Around the corner however, I found out that Videl lived in the longest street in the world. I couldn't even see where it ended. Slightly frustrated and wasting no more time, I ran through the street full speed, until I found number 14. It was at the end of the lane.

When I saw the house, my jaw dropped to the ground. Videl lived in a castle of a house. It was huge. Big, iron fences surrounded the estate, secluding it from the entire neighbourhood. I looked around and when I saw nobody, I took off from the ground and flew to the house, still wondering how on earth an estate like this could exist in the city.

As I came closer, no light burned in any of the numerous rooms and I assumed that everyone was asleep. I abandoned the hope that I would see Videl tonight. I didn't know where her room was after all. I almost started to believe this had been a bad idea. But when I got to the left wing I did see a faint light in one of the rooms. I decided to check it out.

The room was on the second floor. It was tall, with high windows. When I peeked in I saw it was a bedroom. It had everything a normal room had, only king-sized and made out of such expensive material that had I been inside, I would have been afraid to even turn my butt.

I gazed through the window, fixed my ears at any sound there was. I didn't notice the dark figure lying on the floor, in front of his bed.

I almost fell out of the air when I saw it. The figure was a man, but he didn't move, he was just lying there, motionlessly… as if he was dead. I stared at him for a while with wide open eyes, until someone entered the room.

Even though the light was faint and I could barely see more than contours, I immediately recognized Videl. In hasty panic she ran to the figure on the floor. She had a few objects in her hand. It was a bottle of water and something which I thought looked like a funnel connected to a thin rubber tube. She sat down next to the man and opened his mouth. Without any reluctance she shove the rubber tube down the figure's throat. I cringed seeing it.

She didn't hesitate a moment and emptied half of the bottle of water in the funnel. For a while nothing seemed to happen. I heard her cuss loudly. But all of a sudden, completely unexpectedly, the figure's chest started to shock vehemently. She pulled the tube out of the figure's mouth, after which he started to vomit extremely. Despite the darkness I could see Videl's face change from anxious to relieved. She rolled the man to his side and watched him puke his stomach empty as she sat with her back against the end of the bed. I could still see the bands of anxiety sweat on her forehead.

"You're gonna kill yourself one of these days." She muttered as she stared blankly at the unknown figure.

He didn't reply. It took a while for him to empty his stomach. When he was finally done he rolled onto his back again. Tears were running from the corners of his eyes. Apparently indifferently Videl got up and gave him the rest of the water out of the bottle. She helped him up and put him into the bed. Under the sheets, the man released a sigh.

"Will you make it?" Videl asked. But there was no reply. The man had fallen asleep.

She looked at him for a while. I would have given anything if I could know what she was thinking at the moment. Her expression was blank, emotionless. She turned around and started to clean up the vomit. Not once she pulled a disgusted face. When she was done she turned off the light and left the room, taking a last glimpse at the man in bed before she closed the door.

The clock stroke two.

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Review please!


	6. Generals' Quarter

A/N: I don't know if I'm too satisfied with this chapter. It all seems kind of rushed. Don't know what else to make of it though, so I'm going to post it anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing...

Note: The story gets unintentionally dark. But I did come up with the perfect ending. Did I tell you that the ending is NOT going to be a HAPPY ENDING... Now you know.

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_Chapter 6_

_Generals' Quarter_

It was a little over two and with no haste in the world I flew over Satan City, thinking about the scene I just saw between Videl and the unknown man. I was confused. Wondered what on earth had happened. Questions came up in mind. What had been wrong with the man Videl found on the floor unconscious? How did Videl know what to do? Why didn't she panic like any girl would do when she found a body on the floor? Why didn't she call anyone? But above all, why did she react with so much indifference to the man's condition?

I couldn't fathom any of it. The questions awoke in me a burning curiosity. But I knew they could never be answered. I could only get answers from Videl or the man and how was I going to explain that I saw everything, from the unconsciousness of the man, to the quick action of Videl, to the barfing and to the seemingly lack of interest and concern from Videl towards the man? When I was looking at it, I couldn't turn away. There is something strangely fascinating about things you are not intend to see. But now I had the feeling that I saw something I should definitely not have seen. Saw something no one should have seen. Like I had violated the privacy of Videl and that man, whoever he was.

Come to think of that now, the man had looked familiar to me. I just didn't realize that I had seen his face before on the TV and in the papers. Mother and Bulma had no good word left for him. Even though I didn't care about his scam, they still couldn't quite get over the fact that he claimed my victory over Cell. Somewhere inside I knew the man was Hercule Satan as I flew across the city that memorable day. And that he was Videl's father.

Maybe I was too shocked for that realization to dawn upon me. Maybe I did nothing but fix my attention on Videl. Just a moment inside her mind was all I wished at that time. To know what she was feeling. Because under the mask of indifference there must have been some emotion. Some concern. Something.

Anything.

Her indifference under certain situations turned out to be the first thing about Videl that was a total mystery to me. A mystery never solved, not even until today.

Beneath me the city had turned darker, filthier. If Videl lived in the better half of Satan City, this was definitely the miserable half. The buildings were shabby and grey. The streets were dirty. There was a smell of rust in the air. No one was up. If this wasn't the biggest city in the world, that would not have been a surprise but here, in the Big Orange, the vacancy was sinister.

Maybe I should have known when I flew over what I later found out was the Generals' Quarter, but sinister things were indeed going on beneath me.

Out of nowhere, I heard a gunshot. It startled me to hear the ear-wrecking sound. It had happened somewhere close to where I was. I wanted to just turn around and go home – the night had been long enough and I longed for my warm sheets and soft pillow – but duty got the best of me.

A few seconds later I heard another shot. And another. I sped through the air and landed at a tall building mere moments later. I looked over a square and saw a few men. Right opposite them stood even more. They formed two unfairly divided gangs. They all had guns.

"Those were just warning shots." One of the men from the smaller gangs warned. Apparently he was the one who had fired the shots I heard.

A man from the other gang growled. "Last time you fired a warning shot you killed my brother. And now you're going to pay."

He shot with a deafening sound. Time stood still as I saw the bullet being fired. I transformed to Super Saiyan and dashed at the two gangs. Before anyone could take any notion of what happened, I had already caught the bullet in the palm of my hand.

"What the hell…" One gang member said.

"Holy Jesus." Another muttered.

They were all staring at me in disbelief as I stood between the two gangs, the bullet in my fist. I could imagine they didn't believe their eyes. After all, who could stop a bullet? After a few seconds one man took his chance.

"H-how did he do that?" His voice trembled as he was pointing at me with his index finger, eyes wide open. I turned to the man. My gaze was enough to make him flinch.

"Go home." I demanded curtly. "Everyone. You've done enough already."

They all blinked at me. No one moved. Some looked frightful, others had incredulous gazes. One gang member regained his strength.

"You're telling us what to do?" He yelled, attempting to sound threatening, in which he might have succeeded were his voice an octave lower.

I didn't reply. The man looked at his mates for support but he didn't find it. They were all staring at me with wide open eyes.

"C'mon! Are we gonna let this… this freak tell us what to do?" He tried again, attempting to inspired courage in the other men, but it was in vain. No one stopped their staring. Others took a step back.

I looked at the man and frowned. To my slight amusement everyone jumped back. But the man didn't turn around. Instead he aimed his gun at me.

"I-I'll shoot!" He said with breaking voice.

A silence fell. I didn't say anything. The man tried to look determined. I suppose he didn't have much faith in his weapon. But when he got no response from me he pulled the trigger. It all happened in a fraction of a second. I saw the bullet coming at me. Before it hit my head, I caught it in my hand.

The reaction of the two gangs was even more extreme than before. Out of blinding panic the other men shot at me too. I stopped all the bullets before they could hit me. Through the ear-wrecking sounds I faintly heard the sirens of police cars. Blue and red lights were cast onto the high buildings of a near street. The gangs ceased their shooting.

"Cops! Get your ass out of here!" One of the gang members yelled.

They all scrambled in an attempt to get away. I powered up one time. The earth started to shake. The hot, golden gusts of air and the trembling ground threw everyone down. They could not escape. The windows of the buildings reflected the blinding light . Around the corner the first police cars arrived. The cars stopped with a squeaking sound and the cops slowly got out. Whatever they had expected to find here, this wasn't it.

I could imagine what it looked like. A young man in the middle of the square in a fire of golden rays, surrounded by bullets and unconscious gang members. Their faces betrayed their astonishment.

Before anyone could do anything, I took off from the ground and sped away. Away from the square. Away from the Generals' Quarter. Away from the city.

I came home exhausted. It was almost three in the morning. I was tired and longed for a good night's sleep. When I entered my room through the window no one appeared to have missed me or been aware of my absence. Turned out that my somewhat disastrous little trip went by unnoticed. That was the only positive thing that happened that night.

I went to bed with a heavy heart. My mind was on the scene with at Videl's house. The images of the rubber tube in the man's throat, the barfing, Videl's face.. It was all burned into my mind. It made me twist and turn in my bed for almost an hour. In the morning, when the sun would almost rise and when it was merely two hours from wake-up time, I finally fell asleep. Little did I know, however, that my the consequences of my actions that night were huge.

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